Dance Dance Degradation
by jarec
Summary: A Sort-Of sequel to Down on The Farm. Batman has been humiliated, and now he's out for revenge. Can Superman survive? Can his dignity? Nonslash
1. Chapter 1

Three years.

THREE. YEARS.

For three years, Batman had been forced to endure ritual humiliation in front of his so-called peers in the Justice League. Three years ago, he had made a bet with his 'friend' Clark Kent over the outcome of a football game between the Metropolis Meteors and the Gotham Knights- a bet he had lost. As a result he had been forced to sing "I'm a little teapot" in front of the senior members of the world's premier superhero team. That had been bad enough, but a few months later, the Metropolis Monarchs had had a baseball game against the Gotham Gargoyles. At a meeting of the League, Superman had asked Batman if he felt anymore confident in this game, and whether he was willing to back that confidence up. Batman would normally have ignored this, except that the Kryptonian Bastard had mentioned that he (Bastard) would understand if he (Batman) were nervous about risking his pride on, quote, "such a sad collection of has-beens, never-wases and overhyped losers". Well, Gotham's defender couldn't let that pass, and two days later the Dark Knight had been forced to sing "I feel Pretty" on the Watchtower PA.

The next three years had brought Gotham defeat after defeat- no matter how good the team from Gotham was, Metropolis always won no matter the sport. Batman had been forced to sing many, many humiliating songs, culminating in last night when he had been forced to...rap.

Enough, he decided, was Enough.

The moment he returned to Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne put through a call to his business manager Lucius Fox. After some light pressuring, Fox had agreed to go along with his employers latest whimsy. Over the next few weeks, Wayne Enterprises began setting up a number of small shell companies and using them to quietly accumulate a controlling interest in the Gotham Knights. All was done slowly, and with the strictest devotion to secrecy- allegedly so that Bruce didn't end up "looking like Lex Luthor, plastering his name on everything in sight" but in actuality, to prevent snoopy reporters (or their wives) from figuring out who now owned the team.

After a few weeks, a meeting was called for the shareholders in the Knights franchise. There, the executives who represented the dummy corporations expressed their dissatisfaction with the team's performance and proposed a solution. At great cost, a famous physical trainer was brought in from Eastern Europe. This man, a former trainer of Olympic champions, was tasked with turning the Knights into an unstoppable force. Moreover, a renowned college football coach was coaxed out of retirement for one season. All of this was done quietly, and when the season began no one seemed to be the wiser. The season began well, with the Knights winning most of their games but without any spectacular victories. The new coach had, on his own, decided that the team should save the new plays for later in the season in order to surprise the tougher competition- a decision Bruce Wayne was happy to agree to.

Eventually, the inevitable game between Gotham and Metropolis arrived. With his usual casualness, Clark Kent called Wayne Manor to ask if Bruce "felt lucky". Batman allowed himself to be baited into once more placing his dignity on the line but this time he had a new wager to make.

"I'll take your bet Clark" he said, with a savage grin "But there are two conditions. First, you and Lois must be my guests to watch the game in my skybox"

"Oh, I'm sure we'll be able to force ourselves" Clark said, smiling at the thought of the fine food and excellent view that the box would undoubtedly have.

"Good. Second, if by some fluke I win, you have to dance. Not in front of the League, but I pick the dance and you can't back out. Don't worry about technique, I'll see to it that you learn to dance perfectly. Is it a deal?"

Clark's well-honed sense of peril was going off at this, but the conditions seemed pretty minor compared to some of the songs he'd forced the Dark Knight to perform. Besides, Gotham hadn't won a game against Metropolis in years. "It's a deal, Bruce."

When Game Day arrived, Clark and Lois Kent flew into Gotham aboard Wayne-1. Ostensibly, the pair were going to be there to cover the billionaire playboy's latest charity soiree- which was being held that night. In actuality, neither one could care less- both were too focused on the game. The entire flight was spent going over possible strategies and line-up changes and how those might affect the game. Lois, who was a huge Meteors fan, was convinced the team was unbeatable today- Clark wished he could share in her certainty.

An elderly gentleman in a chauffeurs uniform met them at the airport. Lois dropped her bag and raced to kiss Alfred on the cheek. The staid Englishman accepted this with a friendly smile, and shook Clark's hand in welcome. After brief 'hellos', the group made their way to the Knights home stadium for the game. The vintage Rolls Royce made excellent time through downtown Gotham, and within minutes they arrived at Gotham Memorial Stadium.

Both Clark and Lois came from fairly modest backgrounds, and subsequently were a bit overawed by the treatment they received as guests of Bruce Wayne. They were met halfway to the skybox by a team of valets who took their coats and led them to the box. Along the way, they were offered food, drink, a guided tour of Gotham, and "personal time" with any of the players or cheerleaders or both- the last offer made Clark blush and Lois guffaw. Eventually they reached the skybox and were once again stunned by sheer opulence.

The box was easily the size of their apartment back in Metropolis. Cream colored, deep shag carpeting covered the entire floor, and was so soft Lois exclaimed that it was almost like walking on a cloud, to which Clark smirked. The far side of the box was dominated by a tremendous window, which gave an unparalleled view of the stadium, beginning at the Meteors Endzone. Just in front of this was a large, cream colored couch and several matching recliners.

Opposite this window, a large wet bar stood, stocked with truly vast amounts of drink. Lois, knowing her husband would be thirsty, quickly fixed drinks- a Martini for herself and a White Russian for him. For his part, Clark moved to the huge buffet table that occupied one wall of the room. Barbecued ribs, deep fried shrimp, broiled lobster and fresh salad were among the many delicacies offered, and the Man of Steel lost no time in loading up a plate.

Just as the couple got settled in, Bruce Wayne walked in with his date- a tall, blonde woman of fantastic beauty. "Sorry I'm late" the billionaire said, in the slightly vapid tone of Gotham's most famous fool "Candi and I got a little lost. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

"Oh yeah!" squeaked Candi "This place is just so BIG!"

Lois gave a strained smile and moved to introduce herself. "Hello, Candi, I'm Lois Lane from the Daily Planet"

"Oh?" Candi replied blankly "What's that? A new dance club?"

Lois' smile got a little more strained. "Er, no, we're a newspaper. One of the most important ones."

"Oh" Candi said, turning away "I don't read much."

"Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" Lois muttered into her drink. Clark snorted at that, but managed to cover it with a cough.

"Now that everyone's here, why don't we settle in? The game will be starting soon. Clark, why don't you and I pick up snacks for the ladies?"

The moment the two were out of hearing, Bruce Wayne disappeared and Batman took his place. "I trust you haven't forgotten our bet, Clark?"

"No, I haven't" Clark said distractedly. He was staring at the seat area, where Candi was telling Lois how nice her hair could look if she 'did something with it', while Lois smiled fixedly. Turning back to his friend, he said "Bruce where in the world do you FIND these women?"

Batman snorted quietly. "Girls, Clark, not women. Little girls playing dress-up because they've never had to do anything more in their lives. As for where to find them, go to any high-society ball and you'll find at least six of them. I met this one at the charity ball last evening- it would have been suspicious if Bruce Wayne came alone"

Clark nodded and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're a braver man than I, Bruce."

The pair took their seats just in time for kickoff. The game began with a bold play by Metropolis- a long pass, which gained them significant ground against the Knights. Clark and Lois both whooped in joy and made faces at Bruce. The playboy just smiled and silently mouthed 'watch the game'.

Almost immediately, the Knights took control of the field. Metropolis was soon forced onto the defensive, as the Gotham team executed brilliant plays and masterful defenses. By half-time, it was clear that the game was pretty well over. Gotham had a 21 to nothing lead, and the Meteors had been thoroughly demoralised. The team had come onto the field with a three-year winning streak against the Knights- they'd expected an easy win. Instead, they were being creamed and humiliated. The rest of the game was a complete slaughter, as the Knights racked up another two touchdowns before the final gun.

The Gotham crowd was ecstatic- their cheers and victory cries were heard even within the allegedly sound-proofed walls of the skybox.

Lois and Clark had both slumped back in their seats resignedly. They'd been so sure of victory! Clark leaned over and asked Bruce what the dance would be. His blood chilled at the Batman's dark grin.

A/N

I see Clark as drinking White Russians- I think the milk (or cream) base would appeal to him.

Yes, there will be another chapter fairly soon.

No, I don't know much about football games. American Style football isn't popular here, and while I do know the rules, I've never seen a game live.

To those watching my other stories- UPDATES ARE COMING AND COMING SOON!


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

The Last Son of Krypton focused his mind on the task at hand. He mentally shut out all distractions, eliminated all extraneous thoughts, and gave himself over fully to his objective. His remarkable mind narrowed itself to pinpoint focus, and directed his body's actions with astounding precision.

Step. Pause. Pivot. Step, step, step. Pause. Turn. Twirl. Dip, crouch, leap.

"Very good, Mister Kent!" called Leon, the dance instructor at the Metropolis Recreational Dance Studio. "Very good indeed! You've just about got that movement down! Now, from the top!"

Clark smiled (or at least showed his teeth) and began the entire routine again. It had been three weeks since the big Knights-Meteors game, and every single night he had spent one hour at the dance studio, learning to do the dance Bruce had requested. Worse, as owner of the Daily Planet, Bruce had kept a close watch on his victim's schedule, and so Clark was unable to cry off due to excessive work. Clark had been stuck, and his tormentor knew it.

It had been humiliating. It had been tedious. It had been difficult. It had caused him, more than once, to plot the brutal murder of the Dark Knight. But it was almost over, thank god. After going through the entire routine one more time, and making only a few small mistakes, he retired to the dressing room to change into his normal clothes before heading home. As he did so, he shuddered once more at the... costume... Bruce had insisted he wear for the big number. Needless to say, his mood was grim as he got into his car to begin the drive home.

Suddenly, his phone chimed. Glancing down, the Man of Steel swallowed heavily. It was a text message from Lois: "Come home soon. I've prepared a Special Meal for us Both". Whenever she told him they were having a Special Meal, dinner was rarely the highlight of the evening. Racing home as fast as he decently could, Clark arrived just in time to see Lois pay off the delivery boy. As he entered their apartment, kicking aside an old takeout box (neither reporter was a world class housekeeper) he smiled.

The meal itself was good- General Tao chicken and spare ribs from their favorite Chinese place. Lois was not a gifted cook (to say the least) and Clark wasn't much better, so the couple made healthy use of Metropolis' vast takeaway and delivered foods market. Normally, he would have relished the savory pork and spiced chicken. but tonight Clark found it hard to focus on his food. He kept a surreptitious watch on his wife, but even Superman couldn't eat without occasionally glancing at his food. Finally though, Lois stood up and held up a small can of whipped cream, which she somehow grabbed when he wasn't looking. He cursed himself for his lack of attention- he always missed her picking it up.

"Well, Smallville" she announced "You can clear away the dishes, I'm stuffed. If you've still got room, though, dessert's on me." Slowly, seductively, Lois ambled out of the kitchen, already unbuttoning her blouse.

Knowing from experience that his wife would need time to prepare his 'dessert', Clark cleaned up without recourse to super speed. It took a colossal effort to dry the dishes by hand, and not resort to a millisecond purst of heat vision. When he finished these chores, he headed out of the kitchen, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He tossed his tie over the sofa, and kicked his shoes across the hall. The miseries of the day were forgotten

Yes sir, he loved Special Meals.

They were almost as fun as Leather Goods Night.

* * *

Deep within the Batcave, Batman went over his checklist again. Location, check. Music, check. Guestlist, check. Cameras, check. HE leaned back in his chair and allowed himself a tight smile, one that did not go unnoticed by a certain gentleman's gentleman.

"Sir" Alfred said, as he lightly set a teatray down before his employer. "I must ask once more: Is this entirely necessary? Mister Kent was an excellent host to us down in Kansas, and while I understand that you have a legitimate grievance, surely THIS is entirely too much? Couldn't you have simply given him a stern talking to, coupled with that delightful glare we've all come to know and love?"

Batman shook his head. "When this whole thing started, Alfred, that probably would have been enough. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of thinking that it was all over, and so lost the opportunity to nip this thing in the bud. Now Clark thinks this is actually helping me- his warped, alien brain has decided that making me sing is a good way to Bring Me Out Of My Shell. If I complain now, then I'm just being a Stick In the Mud, and he'll try that much harder. No. The only way to stop this for good is to shock him out of it."

Alfred nodded "I agree sir, but again, surely there must be another way? One that is not quite so horrifying?"

Batman turned to his oldest friend and fixed him with a level stare. "He made me RAP, Alfred. Had it been just the two of us, I would have been annoyed. Had it been in front of the League's main council, I would have been angry. But he made me rap in front of the ENTIRE JUSTICE LEAGUE. A lot of the younger members only respect me because they fear me- some are overconfident in their superpowers, while others think me crazy. Now, though, I've seen more than a few snickering at me when they pass me in the hall. I'll be able to fix that myself easily enough, but Superman must pay. Do you understand now why I have to do this?"

Alfred sighed and nodded. "I concede the point sir. May I just say that, in the event that a berserk Kryptonian should arrive at the Manor, I shall be giving notice?"

Batman grunted and returned the Batcomputer to its normal monitoring functions, and got up from his seat. As satisfying as his revenge would be, he had a city to protect.

* * *

A month later Lois arrived at work a little late and alone. Clark had told her to call in sick for him- apparently, there was League business that couldn't wait and he needed the whole day to deal with it, even leaving at six that morning. Although Lois was, in most regards, an extremely capable and driven woman, she tended to overlook details- like forgetting her cell phone, needing to check that she'd locked the door, and so forth. When she'd been single, she'd developed an elaborate checklist system, similar to what she used as a reporter, to make sure she left the house fully prepared for the day. However, after her marriage, she'd come to depend on Clark to look after such things- he made sure she had her keys, locked the apartment door, picked up the mail and so on. Since he'd left early that morning, she'd been on her own- and as a result, the morning had seen her return to the apartment no fewer than three times for things she'd forgotten. In light of this, she was not in the best of moods by the time she reached her desk and began working. Hardly a moment had passed before a strange young man in a dark suit arrived in front of her.

"Excuse me" he said. In response to this seemingly innocuous greeting, Lois slammed the file she'd been reading down onto her desk and glared at him.

"Don't tell me- I can guess who you are based on how my morning's been. You're from the car company, right?" She snapped "Look, we already told you, the check is in the mail. Bothering me about it will not make it arrive at your office any sooner!"

"Um, no" the man said, now looking decidedly nervous. "I'm here to deliver this" He slid a small envelope across the desk, and then fled the room. Lois glared after him, then reached for the envelope.

It was a plain white envelope, with no stamps or addresses on it. Instead, the word PRIVATE had been stamped onto the front in large black letters. Intrigued, the reporter opened it and withdrew a small card.

_Dear Miss Lane,_

_You are cordially invited to a TOP SECRET event to be held on the twenty third of the month. This event will be a ONCE IN A LIFETIME EXPERIENCE for you and a select group. Come to 465 Keene Street at seven thirty in the evening on the twenty third. This invitation is good for you alone- it may not be transferred, shared or copied All refreshments will be provided free of charge.. _

_A Friend_

Lois was still musing over this mysterious card when Jimmy walked by with the morning's mail. "Oh, hi Ms Kent" he chirped "Jeepers, you got one of those cards too, huh?"

"Wait, you got one, Jimmy?" Lois said, a little surprised. At first she'd assumed this was some kind of trap to capture 'Superman's Girlfriend', but Jimmy getting one threw that into question.

"Yep, and Perry did too. Willikiers, whatever it is sure sounds exciting, don't you think?"

"I'm sure" Lois replied, looking with curiosity at her invitation. "One thing's for sure- I know what I'm doing on the Twenty third."

The evening of the twenty third was a cold one, as a bitter wind whipped off the river and into Metropolis proper. Lois found herself waiting outside the old bar that stood on 465 Keene street, along with a number of other people, all huddled together outside the boarded up windows of the bar.

Along with Jimmy and Perry, there was Lana Lang, 'Bibbo' Bibbowski and, the biggest surprise of all, Supergirl in full uniform. At the door, a large bouncer stood in front of the entrance with a clipboard in his hand, refusing to allow anyone into the club until exactly seven-thirty. As it was only seven fifteen, the guests fell to chatting amongst themselves. Lana and Perry fell into a discussion of the latest news stories, comparing coverage and jokingly mocking each other's choice of media. Bibbo and Jimmy were engrossed in an argument over the Meteor's starting line. Lois noticed that the Girl of Steel was standing awkwardly off to one side, and moved over to her.

"Hey, Supergirl" she said loudly "Does your cousin know you're here?"

The young blonde's eyes bugged out. "Kal? Oh god, no! And you CANNOT tell him, miss Lane! Not unless you want me chained up in the Fortress of Solitude until I hit menopause!"

Lois laughed then moved in closer "Don't worry," she whispered "Clark doesn't know I'm here either. I told him I was going to pick up some new shoes and he couldn't fly away fast enough."

Supergirl shivered in the wind. "Brrr. I wish we were shoe shopping instead of standing out here"

Lois shook her head. "Not me. This promises to be a lot more interesting, and even if it isn't 'all refreshments will be provided free of charge'. Worst case scenario, we'll have a couple of margaritas at someone elses expense." A thought occured to her and she pointed at the young Argosian. "How are YOU cold? You fly around in outer space and practically live in a glacier."

Supergirl rolled her eyes and rubbed her arms. "Just because it doesn't hurt me doesn't mean I don't feel it. I mean, flying around in space the cold's pretty much inevitable. The same is true of the arctic- its part of the price for having a safe place to crash. But I'm standing here in the wind and I KNOW I could be inside with a hot chocolate, and that makes the cold feel even worse, y'know?"

Eventually, the bouncer unlatched the velvet rope and began checking names off his list. Once he'd made sure that everyone who was supposed to be there was there, he opened the door and the group moved inside.


End file.
